Mistreated - The Bog King
by Dizzydaydream
Summary: This is a prequel to Strange Magic. How did the Bog King become so evil? What turn of events created this monster? Who was the girl that broke his heart... And why doesn't he look anything like the other goblins?
1. Epilogue

There are two types of pain.

The first is physical. It's being cut. It's being punched. It's being torn limb from limb.

Bog could take that pain. He'd been taught to take that pain.

The second is emotional. It's hurt. It's rejection. It's heartbreak.

For the first time, Bog couldn't take the pain. He'd never experienced something so excruciating. Would he die from this? A part of him wished he would. A broken heart felt like it was a wound that would never heal.

The other part just never wanted to feel that pain again.

So he never would.


	2. Useless

"Oof." Bog gasped as he landed against the wall with a heavy thud, the wind knocked out of him. He took a deep breath, trying to get his bearings before he chose how he'd proceed with the attack. He saw the outline of his opponent, knowing that he would be beaten soon if he didn't come up with a plan.

 _Be clever Bog. That's how you'll win._

Being smaller than the other goblins, the young Bog had to use brains over brawn. He'd never won against them before, but today could be the day. It had to be. He couldn't keep cowering in the corner as he waited for them to stop. His mother had always told him that he had to stand up for himself. If he let them push him around, he'd never win their acceptance.

 _But why do I need their acceptance?_

He knew why he needed it.

Bog didn't resemble any of the other goblin children. He stood tall and gangly, over a head taller than the oldest of the goblins. He had tiny, dragonfly wings - something no other goblin possessed - and a tough exoskeleton that made him the perfect target for bullies' beatings. After all, it wasn't like he was easy to hurt, the exoskeleton kept him safe as he was tossed around the swamp. He was also ugly. Every goblin reminded him of that fact. Bog would never be handsome in the eyes of goblins. Too tall, too thin and far too strange looking.

"Ahh..." Bog moaned as he hit another tree stump, this time harder than the last. He was being swung around like a rag doll. He felt a sharp sting in his right wing, it's delicate membrane torn at the edges from a beating rougher than usual. That would take months to heal, if it healed at all. He already had holes torn into his wings that would leave a permanent reminder of his difference to everyone else.

"Are you going to fight back, or are you going to go crying to your mother?" The bully teased, knowing that normally this ended with Bog fighting away back to the palace. Believe it or not, Bog was actually the heir to the throne. His mother had allowed the throne to be guarded by the royal adviser Inkia until Bog was ready to take over. This was something Bog seriously doubted he'd ever be ready for. His mother had remained hopeful, reminding him that he carried royal blood in his veins.

Bog knew this couldn't be true. He'd seen his own blood many times and it didn't run blue. It was red. He was about as blue blooded as he was a goblin.

For a while Bog had wondered if he was adopted. It would explain why he looked nothing like his mother. His mother was certain that she'd carried him in her womb for 23 months, information she enjoyed embarrassing him with whenever she got the chance. Bog had never met his father, he'd died before Bog was born. Griselda told Bog that he looked just like his father. He had the same eyes and smile. It comforted Bog to know this, but at the same time, he couldn't understand how he could resemble his father yet still be called a goblin. Griselda would never answer this question, quickly changing the subject. It infuriated Bog.

It was that fury that helped him decide on his next move.

He knew that the bully was gearing up to swing at him again, he could see the brute's great arms lift up, ready to bring down another devastating blow. Acting quickly, Bog dived underneath the bully's arms, leaving him to tumble forward as Bog grabbed a nearby tree branch. He flew behind the bully, flicking the branch across his opponents back.

"OWWW!" The brute screamed, touching his back where it was now a nasty shade of red.

"Did that hurt?" Bog asked, feigning concern. "How about this?" He asked as he whipped him again. Bog couldn't stop himself laughing at the pain he was causing his tormentor. The bully cried out each time Bog hit him with the branch. When the bully finally slumped down onto the ground, sobbing from the pain, Bog leaned in close enough to murmur into his ear. "I suggest you go running to your mummy before I really hurt you." He hit the bully one more time, enjoying the satisfying slap the branch made when it came into contact with the brute's skin. He decided he liked the branch, keeping hold of it as he shoved off from the ground.

 _I did it. I really did it._

Bog had never felt so elated before. His wings buzzed, unable to contain the excitement within his body. He'd actually stood up for himself and proved he was just as much a goblin as everyone else. It was incredible. He tried not to think about how much he'd enjoyed hurting the bully. Or how he'd loved being in such control over someone else. No, he decided he'd just been happy to finally stop someone that had been hurting him for so long. He flew to the palace, landing just outside, not ready to go in to see his mother or Inkia yet. They'd only start harping on about his royal responsibilities. Bog was just about trying to pass as a goblin, let alone taking the helm as king.

He ran his hands over the long piece of branch that he'd used as a weapon. He quite liked holding it, it made him feel protected and powerful. He tossed it between his hands, then turned quickly to swing it against a tree, hitting it hard to make a delightful cracking noise. The branch was undamaged. It was strong. Far stronger than Bog would ever be. Bog nodded to himself, deciding he'd keep the branch. It brought him so much luck already. He walked into the palace, heading straight to his room so he could hide his new weapon. He stashed it under his bed, pulling his moss blanket slightly over the side to cover the branch. It was lying next to a box of his father's possessions, the only clue he had to who his dad had been.

"BOG!" Griselda called out. Bog sighed. He never got five minutes to himself. "BOG! I know you are here. The mushrooms told me. Get here now." She called again. "Coming!" Bog shouted back, checking that the staff was well hidden before leaving his room. "What do you want, mother?" He asked as he walked into the throne room, stopping just in front of the old throne.

Inkia sat on the throne. He was an old goblin, a long , grey bristly beard protruded from under his lips, covering his chest and stopping just below his knees. Like almost all goblins, he did not wear clothing, revealing war torn green flesh. Inkia had fought in many battles. His brute strength and superior skills of war had ensured that he never lost. He had a deep scar across his right eye, which was still pink and blistering, even years after the wound had been inflicted. The knife that had cut him had been infused with poison dart frog mucus. Goblins could not heal or remove that kind of poison, so it just stayed embedded in Inkia's skin, festering away at his flesh. Inkia had once told Bog that his eye had almost been pulled out of it's socket, he'd been lucky to walk away with just the scar as proof. Bog had always been frightened of Inkia, the war hero had a deep voice and short temper. Bog did his best to avoid him.

"You are late. Dinner is over." Inkia commented, sounding almost bored. "How are you ever going to be a King when you can't even get home for dinner on time?" He questioned, shaking his head.

"Sorry, I lost track of the time." Bog shrugged. Inkia sighed loudly.

"Bog, we've just announced the plans for your upcoming birthday to the court. I was hoping you'd be here for that." Giselda was obviously disappointed in her son. Bog tried not to look at his mother, biting his lip. He didn't care about disappointing Inkia, but he really didn't like disappointing his mother. "I know, mother. I'm sorry. I got caught up again." He said quietly, knowing his mother would understand his meaning. Bog and Griselda had been careful to keep the fact that Bog was being pushed around by the other children from Inkia. Bog was already such a failure in Inkia's eyes. Being bullied would just be the icing on the cake. Bog sagged a little, hanging his head in shame. Griselda walked over to her son, tip-toeing up to pat his shoulder.

"It's okay, Bog. No harm done." She said softly. "The servants left a plate of food for you in the kitchen. Go and get something to eat." She added, patting his arm one more time before letting him go. "Okay. Thank you." Bog replied, moving to walk out of the hall.

As he left, he heard Inkia mutter "Useless" under his breath.

Bog closed his eyes for a minute once he'd closed the hall doors behind him, leaning heavily against them.

He was useless. He began to quietly sing to himself as he made his lonely trek to the kitchen.

 **Useless - Depeche Mode**

[The beat is slow, with a simple guitar riff]

 _Well it's about time  
It's beginning to hurt  
Time you made up your mind  
Just what is it all worth_

 _All my useless advice  
All my hanging around  
All your cutting down to size  
All my bringing you down_

Bog ran hand over his scaly head, his dragging his feet as he twitched his wings, feeling the sting of the injury they'd sustained earlier. He flinched, turning his head to assess the damage. Now the adrenaline had worn off, his wing really was beginning to hurt. He shook his head, trying to ignore the pain. There was no way he was visiting the healer again, that information would only be passed onto Inkia.

 _Watch the clock on the wall  
Feel the slowing of time  
Hear a voice in the hall  
Echoing in my mind_

Bog passed an old grandfather clock, one that his father had left behind. It was tall and made of a dark wood, part of that wood had chipped away over time. He stopped for a moment to gaze at it, his reflection staring back at him on the glass window of the clock face. The clock had never worked, it remained stuck at one o'clock. Bog's mother had always said it stopped working the minute his father had died. Bog didn't believe her. He wondered how often his father had looked at this clock. Had he really seen the same reflection? Bog continued his lonely wander to the kitchen.

 _All your stupid ideals  
Got your head in the clouds  
You should see how it feels  
With your feet on the ground_

 _Here I stand the accused  
With your fist in my face  
Feeling tired and bruised  
With the bitterest taste_

Bog walked down the steps to the servants quarters, which led on to the kitchen. He'd often taken this route, having been late home for dinner more than a few times.

 _All my useless advice  
All my hanging around  
All your cutting down to size  
All my bringing you down_

 _All your stupid ideals  
Got your head in the clouds  
You should see how it feels  
With your feet on the ground._

The final note ends as Bog sits down at the table. A servant serves his food and leaves. Bog is alone. As he always would be.


	3. Make Me Wanna Die

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you everyone for your kind reviews.**

 **I've set up the first chapter to begin asking many integral questions for the plot of this story. All those questions shall be answered!**

 **I'll be jetting off on holiday tomorrow, so next update will not be for another couple of weeks.**

 **I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

* * *

Bog's birthday came faster than he would have liked. He didn't do well in social situations, he was far too awkward and didn't know how to get a conversation going. His mother however, was the ultimate belle of the ball. She loved social occasions. It gave her a chance to see all her friends and be the center of attention. Even though it was Bog's birthday, he was more than happy to let his mother take the limelight. She had given up on pulling Bog out of his shell a long time ago. Nowadays, she tried pushing a few friends on Bog but would give up quickly, leaving him to his own devices. Her latest obsession was finding Bog a bride. Now he was nearly of age, he was expected to find someone to become his Queen. Bog had no interest in the female goblins that sauntered around court. He just wanted to be left alone, away from everyone else. Griselda just saw a typical, moody teenager, who would grow out of it and become a fine King one day.

The goblin palace was never going to be a bright or happy place. Griselda had spent the past week redecorating ready for the grand ball. The walls were high and gray, the floor made of dirt. The throne made of bone and wood sat proudly in the middle of the room, with steps leading up to it. She'd laid out a buffet table, decorating it with white cloth made of spiderweb and an array of delicious snacks. The spiky lanterns that hung from the ceiling had paper chains attached to them in a spectrum of colors. She captured some fireflies, letting them settle in an array of patterns across the walls. Griselda stood back to look at her handiwork. She was proud of what she'd accomplished, the throne room looked beautiful. She'd missed dancing and music. Ever since Bog's father had died, the palace had been sunk into darkness. She loved that it would finally be brought back out of the shadows, with happiness and laughter filling it's halls once again. Yes, it had been too long.

Griselda didn't want to mourn any longer, she wanted to be happy and to pass that happiness onto her son, Bog. He'd been so... pardon the pun, bogged down lately with everything that Griselda was keen to lift his spirits. Bog on the other hand, just wanted to slip through tonight unnoticed. No such luck. When he was called down to the ball, he gasped at the effort his mother had gone into. "You really didn't need to do this, mum." Bog said, shaking his head as he wandered around the hall. "Shhh. It was my pleasure. Now go up and stand by Inkia, the guests are arriving!" Griselda pointed at the throne, where Inkia had just flopped himself into, already looking bored. He didn't do parties. Griselda sighed, realizing that her son had more in common with Inkia than she thought. They were both party poopers.

As the guests arrived, Bog's heart began to sink. This wouldn't be a little gathering of close relatives and friends. The whole Kingdom was here. He leaned over to his mother. "I thought you agreed this would be nothing fancy?" He asked, eying up the group of teenage girls that had just arrived. Bog swallowed. He really didn't know how to act around girls his age. "Now, now Bog. It's not every day my little boy comes of age. I wanted to celebrate... and perhaps find you someone special." She added the last part in a mumble, but her son heard what she had to say. He rolled his eyes. _Not this again._ "I'm a bit young to be thinking about that." He'd had this conversation too many times to count, but his mother remained hopeful that he'd find the one soon. Bog doubted it very much. All the other goblins thought he looked very odd. He was not handsome by a long shot and he definitely wasn't charming. Hardly a catch for a young girl. He wouldn't even know where to start when it came to flirting.

"Come on Griselda, it's very unlikely anyone will want Bog." Inkia remarked, which was kind of hurtful to Bog. "You never know." Griselda replied before running off to meet up with her friends. Bog stood awkwardly next to Inkia, they didn't speak or look at each other for a few minutes. "I suppose you think you'll be taking the crown now you are of age." Inkia commented, his voice deep and even. It wasn't a question. "I... I guess so?" Bog shrugged, feeling uneasy. "Not that you are ready. In fact, if we are both honest, you will never be ready. You are just like your father. He was never goblin enough to wear the crown either." Inkia said, a cruel smirk on his face. "What's that...?" Bog began but was interrupted by his mother. "BOG! Come here and get the party started. Give us a song." Griselda shouted, the hall went silent and the spotlight hit Bog. He bent his knees in the middle, his face flushing hot."I... urhhh..." Bog glanced at Inkia, who raised an eyebrow as if to prove the point he'd just made. It strengthened Bog's resolve.

"Fine." He jumped off from the ground, flying over to the makeshift stage that had been set up. Bog leaned over to tell the goblins what to play on their instruments. The music became heavy.

 **Make Me Wanna Die - The Pretty Reckless**

Bog bobbed his head in time to the music, letting it flow through him as he took a deep breath ready for the first note. Goblins quite enjoyed rock music, so everyone began dancing. Bog wondered if they had even noticed that it was their crown prince singing.

 _Take me I'm alive_

 _Always was a guy with a wicked mind_

 _But everything looks better when the sun goes down_

 _I had everything_

 _Opportunities for eternity_

 _And I could belong to the night_

He turned to face Inkia, making it look like he was actually singing to his mother, but catching Inkia's hard gaze as he sang the next verse.

 _Then your eyes_

 _Your eyes_

 _I can see in your eyes_

 _Your eyes_

Bog turned back to the crowd, who were signing and dancing to the music. He quite liked the response he was getting from everyone. For the first time, Bog felt included. He knew it would only last as long as this song. Bog stomped along the stage, leaning down to touch his long claws against upheld hands in the crowd as he sang. The chorus picked up the beat and the guitar became heavier.

 _You make me wanna die_

 _I'll never be good enough_

 _You make me wanna die_

 _And everything you love will burn up in the light_

 _And every time I look inside your eyes_

 _You make me wanna die_

Bog couldn't help but smile, his pointed teeth showing as the corners of his mouth upturned. His mother almost swooned, Bog didn't often smile.

 _Taste me drink my soul_

 _Show me all the things that I shouldn't know_

 _When there's a blue moon on the rise_

 _I had everything_

 _Opportunities for eternity_

 _And I could belong to the night_

It was then that he saw her. It made him stop in his tracks, his mouth hanging open slightly as he locked eyes with her. She smiled. Her skin gleamed under the spotlights, her pink lipstick outlining her kissable lips, her big eyes framed by long lashes. Her body was slim, with a bulbous chin hanging down. She was beautiful. The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Bog almost missed the next line, but just about managed to save himself, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

 _Then your eyes_

 _Your eyes_

 _I can see in your eyes_

 _Your eyes_

 _Everything in your eyes_

 _Your eyes_

She looked away first, her smile fading as a friend pulled her away from the crowd. Bog snapped out of his trance, concentrating once again on the music. The last few lines flowed effortlessly.

 _You make me wanna die_

 _I'll never be good enough_

 _You make me wanna die_

 _And everything…_

Who was she?

Bog felt his mother wrap her arms around his waist, cheering happily and congratulating him on his performance. He barely felt her there, concentrating on wherever the girl had gone. She'd disappeared. Bog's heart sank. "Well done Bog, you've made your dear old mother proud." She said, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. He groaned as she touched her soggy lips to his bristled cheek. "Mum, you are embarrassing me." He complained, straightening himself up. The party was now in full swing, Inkia made his excuses and left, leaving with one last unimpressed look at Bog. With Inkia gone, Griselda sat down on the throne, lounging and watching the party whilst munching on some snacks. Bog leaned against the throne, his mind elsewhere. Who was that girl? Where had some come from? Bog was certain he'd have remembered her if he'd ever met her before. A beauty like that was hard to forget. Perhaps she was new to the Kingdom. He hoped he'd see her again soon. His heart fluttered in his chest, his stomach churning nervously. Would he ever muster up the courage to speak with her? No. Bog was far too shy for that.

He eventually made his excuses, wanting to retire to his bedchamber. He wandered down the long halls towards his bedroom, stopping in his tracks when he heard someone singing softly in an adjacent room. He leaned against the door, peeping in through a tiny crack. It was the girl. She was sitting on the bed, running her hands down her chin, stroking it as she sang absentmindedly.

 **Your Song - Elton John**

 _So excuse me forgetting_  
 _But these things, I do_  
 _You see, I've forgotten_  
 _If they're green or they're blue_  
 _Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean_  
 _Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen_

Bog's eyes widened as he heard those words. Was she singing about him? Had she felt the same when their eyes had locked? His heart thudded in his chest, his hand touching the door, ready to open it and join in. His shyness got the better of him.

 _And you can tell everybody this is your song_  
 _It may be quite simple but_  
 _Now that it's done_  
 _I hope you don't mind_  
 _I hope you don't mind_  
 _That I put down in words_  
 _How wonderful life is while you're in the world_  
 _I hope you don't mind_  
 _I hope you don't mind_  
 _That I put down in words_  
 _How wonderful life is while you're in the world..._

The girl sighed, leaning back on the bed and shooing away the fireflies so that the room went dark. Bog stayed outside for a minute, thinking about what he'd just heard. This was the girl. The girl he was going to marry. He could already feel that unfamiliar swell in his chest. Yes, this was love. He smiled as he began to creep away, heading to his own room. Bog flopped down onto his bed, holding his hands over his heart as he quietly whispered the song to himself.

 _How wonderful life is now you're in the world..._

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift to sleep with the image of the girl burned into his mind. He didn't even know her name, but she was going to be everything to him. Now all he needed to do was speak to mother to find out who she was. He couldn't wait for what tomorrow would bring.


End file.
